A/N: Hey all! So, I can honestly say that I've never seen any fics for Bonnie with Peter, so I wanted to rectify that. This is going to be an ongoing story and I'm pretty excited to write it and get back in the swing of things. Special thanks to Ciara for reading this over for me and for letting me bounce ideas off of you! And all of your input! You're the best! The rating on this fic is 'T' for now, but could change to 'M' later.

Background: Bonnie's father dragged her to Beacon Hills, so he can pursue a relationship with a woman he met online. Ever since he has started to talk to her, he's become a different man. He's changed for the worst. So, he dragged Bonnie across the country, right after Sheila dies. Peter isn't too out of his mind. For story purposes, Peter is 26. Bonnie is 17, almost 18. She is the same age as Stiles, Scott and the gang. Bonnie hasn't learned how to master her powers, except how to float feathers. All the doppelgänger never happened. The rest should be explained in story.

*Trigger warnings* This story contains abuse. I'm just gonna tell you all now to just expect trigger warnings. I won't be posting warnings on each individual chapter. You've been warned.

I DO NOT OWN TEEN WOLF, THE VAMPIRE DIARIES OR THE CHARACTERS.
Song Suggestion/Inspiration: "Give You What You Like" by Avril Lavigne

Chapter One:

I sat on the porch and peered around the new town that I had been forced to move to. I hadn't asked for this. Apart from my father, I don't know anyone here. I haven't even met the woman that he moved us here for. At least my father is busy doing something in the house, so I have a few minutes to myself.

I don't know when he changed or why. I only know that he did. Looking back now, it seems like it was a long time coming. I think he just used Grams' death as an excuse to snap. Things are different now. He's not the man who I once knew. He wasn't my father anymore. He was my warden.

I've heard about these stories – sure. I just never thought that I would be starring in one of them. You always think that horrible things will never happen to you. You always think that, until they do. I was no exception.

I could see the visible strain that was wearing on my dad. He was stressed from work and he started bringing that stress home. At first, he started coming home more. Initially, I had thought it would be a good thing. I hardly ever saw him, because he was away with work so often. So, I just brushed off his little episodes, because I thought he was just trying to adjust to the change.

When Grams' passed, it all went out the window. I felt like my life was some horrible, tragic joke and I was just waiting for the punch-line. Grams had been there for me through everything. I couldn't believe that she was really gone. I wasn't right. She was the last person who deserved it.

I didn't know how to exist without her. The world didn't make sense anymore, without her in it. I didn't know what I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to move on. I just shut down. My friends came to see me, to check on me, and I barely noticed. I didn't even have time to grieve.

One day, my dad came home and he just lost it. I've never seen him so angry. And I had never had him take that anger out on me. I didn't know how to react. I froze. He was screaming and yelling. I don't even remember the words. His face was red and he was livid. I could see the rage radiating off of his body like smoke. He started to throw things and I just watched. I just took it all in. I knew better than to try and calm him down, but in the end, I think that just made things worse. I remember feeling the sting, before I saw the blow coming. He had backhanded me. The force brought me to my knees on the floor. He just stood there and glared at me, like I had been the one to do something wrong, when in reality, it was the other way around. He didn't stop after that. He never stopped. The punishments became worse and when I finally mustered up the courage to ask him why he was doing all of this, he just told me that I deserved it. He was the only person I had left in this world. Grams was gone. My mom has been gone. I didn't know what to do. Before I could even come with a plan, we were packing the house, and he was dragging me across the country.

My life is a mess and I've become nothing more than a spectator. I just stayed and took it. Maybe he's right. Maybe I do deserve it.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I didn't bother checking it. I haven't talked to anyone, since I left Mystic Falls. It's too painful. It hurts to be reminded what my life once was. Seeing how far I've crumbled… I just can't. I don't expect any of them to understand. I miss them so much that it hurts.

A car door slamming jarred me from my thoughts. I saw my neighbor getting out of the car and grabbing what looked like a gym bag from the back seat. He stood up and caught me staring. A smirk graced his face and I felt him look me over with his eyes, before I finally looked away. I glanced back and he was still watching me.

"Bonnie, why aren't you helping unpack? I swear, I should have had a son. What are you good for?!" My father scolded me as he stepped onto the porch. I could feel blood rushing to my face. If anything, my neighbor seemed to be more intrigued, than anything. He started to walk over here and I started to panic. I felt my heart race. My father seemed to realize that he was heading over. He gripped my arm and pulled me to my feet, before gripping my shoulder possessively. I gulped. An easy smile graced the face of the handsome stranger, as he stood before us.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of introducing myself. I'm Peter Hale. Welcome to Beacon Hills. It's a pleasure to meet you." He introduced himself, still smiling. The fact that his smile was directed towards me, only made me blush harder.

"I'm Rudy Hopkins. This is my daughter, Bonnie Bennett." My father made both of our introductions.

"What brings you to California?" Peter pried. It's a good name. It suits him. I could feel my father tense next to me and continue to stare him down.

"We had a death in the family and I thought it was a good time for a change." My father replied easily. Despite his body language, his words were smooth and his voice was friendly. Something in Peter's eyes told me that he wasn't buying it, but he didn't let on, if he didn't.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it here. It's a small town, but it has a certain charm. Of course, I'm a bit biased." He chuckled. A small smile played on my lips.

"I hope so." My father agreed. He turned his attention to me. "I'm going to Camilla's for a couple of days. I expect things to be unpacked, when I return. Maybe you can start looking for a job or something to occupy some of your time." He suggested. And just like that, my smile was gone. Of course, he's leaving and of course, I'm left to do everything. "See what you can do about the garage." He added. "It was nice meeting you Peter." My father shook his hand and gave me a look that told me that I'd be sorry, if I didn't do as he asked. Like I even had a choice. I still have fresh bruises from this morning, because I didn't have his breakfast ready fast enough. My dad disappeared inside to grab his bag and then drove away. I sighed, not knowing what to say or how to break the awkward silence.

"Sorry about him." I apologized, lamely. Peter smirked and chuckled.

"I've seen worse." He shrugged. I nodded and stood there silently, again.

"Well… I should go unpack…" I took a step towards my front door. Peter watched me, curiously.

"Would you like some help?" He offered. I tried not to gape at him.

"That um… Yeah, that would… that would be nice." I gave him a brief smile.

"I need to shower and throw these in the wash, but then I'll be over."

"Okay. I'll leave the door unlocked." I opened the front door and felt his eyes on me, as I walked away.

"I'll see you soon, sweetheart." He smirked and walked over to his house. I shut the front door and leaned against it. Did that really just happen? He's not even my age. He has to be in his late twenties, at least. But he's just so… Wow. Those eyes.

I jumped when my phone started going off in my pocket. I pulled it out and peered at the Caller ID. It's my dad. No surprise there.

"Hey dad," I greeted him, softly.

"Bonnie, don't worry about unpacking my bedroom. Just focus on the rest of the house. I've been thinking about you getting a job and I've decided it's a bad idea. I don't want you to fall behind in your house work. Am I understood?" He asked me. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

"Yes dad," I assured him.

"Be a good girl. I'll be home in three days. Make good choices." With that, he ended the call and stared blankly at my phone. Make good choices? What did he expect me to do? It's not like I know anyone except for Peter… and it's not like that will go anywhere. There's no way that he would ever be interested in me. I barely take any pride in my appearance. I make sure that I'm clean, my clothes are clean, and my hair more-or-less behaves. Anything more than that and my father accuses me of trying to look like a harlot for attention. His words, not mine.

I moved all of the boxes into the rooms that they were supposed to be in. I started opening the boxes in the dining room and unpacking Grams' china. Tears prickled my eyes and I willed them not to fall. I still remember helping her wash them, when I was little. She always used to tell me that when she past, they would be mine. She said that things wouldn't be the same, but some things were precious and they memories that they held would be with me forever. Goddess, I miss her. I sniffled and wiped at my cheeks. I can't lose it right now. I can't. I can't keep breaking down every day. It's not what she would want.

"Bonnie," Peter spoke softly from behind me. I jumped and almost dropped the plate in my hands. I swiped at my cheeks hurriedly. I couldn't bring myself to look up at him.

"You really don't have to help me unpack. I'm sure that you have better things to do with your day." I breathed.

"I realize that you don't know me, but if you did, you would know that I wouldn't offer if I had something better to do." He teased, gently. I felt a hand on my arm. I glanced up at him, not sure what to expect. I just met this guy a little over an hour an ago and he walks in on me losing it. I can't imagine what he must think of me. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" He whispered. I blinked at the genuine concern I could see in his eyes and nodded, even though I knew that I wasn't and couldn't be for some time. He seemed to accept it, because he didn't press the issue.

"Just tired, stressed… because of the move… and everything." I underplayed what I was feeling. He moved closer and my breath caught in my throat. He started to put an arm around me and I flinched. I mentally kicked myself. It's pure instinct now. I'm so used to my dad hitting me. Peter pulled back enough to look at my face.

"I was going to hug you, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable…" He explained. Oh. Now, I really feel stupid. I cleared my throat and looked at him awkwardly.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm a spaz." I tried to joke it off. He smirked. "A hug sounds nice." I added. He wrapped his arms around me and held me against him. After a few seconds, I relaxed in his warm embrace. I've forgotten what this feels like – how nice it can be. I felt fresh tears threatening to spill down my cheeks and I swallowed them back. I don't understand why my father can't be nicer, warmer. Especially, with Grams gone… you'd think that he would have stepped up as a parent… not the other way around… I stiffened and pulled back from Peter. He reached out and stroked my cheek.

"I can't have someone so beautiful crying." He offered me a small smile. I don't know what it is about him, but he makes me feel at ease – comfortable. I've missed this. I've missed feeling safe. I feel like I can finally breathe again.

"I'm really not." I blushed, breaking eye contact with him.

"I wouldn't lie to you about that, sweetheart." He assured me. My blush deepened. "How many rooms do you have left to unpack?" He asked me. I looked around.

"Almost all of them," I said lamely, with a slight laugh. He smirked.

"Tomorrow, I'll see if my nephew and his boyfriend can stop by to help." He offered.

"Your nephew?" I asked, confused. He chuckled.

"He's twenty-three." He explained. I nodded.

"Oh, okay. That makes a lot more sense now." I giggled. "I know it's not really polite to ask… but how old are you?" I inquired, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"I'm twenty-six. And you?" He replied, smoothly. He appeared to be more amused by my question, than anything else.

"I'm seventeen… but I'll be eighteen next month." I admitted. He nodded.

"Did you want to get started in the dining room first?" Peter asked me, changing the subject. I bit my lip and glanced back at the box filled with Grams' china. I shook my head.

"Actually, I was thinking the kitchen might be better… I need a little bit, before I unpack these boxes. They belonged to my Grams… She's the one who passed…" I explained, softly. He nodded and moved a hand over mine.

"Anything you want sweetheart." He smiled. I gave him a brief smile back. Maybe California won't be so bad. Apart from my father, Beacon Hills isn't looking quite so bleak anymore.

I stood on my tiptoes and tried to put some dishes on one of the top shelves in the kitchen cabinets. I cursed under my breath, when I still fell short. I jumped when I felt warm hands on my waist. I glanced behind me and saw a very amused Peter.

"Let me help you with that." He offered. He took the glass bowls from my hands and put them up for me. I blushed and smiled in thanks. "You may want to invest in a stool, sweetheart." He teased. I laughed.

"Tell me about it. I'm sure life is a breeze, when you're tall." I giggled. He just smirked.

"What can I say? Not everyone can be blessed with a body as perfect as mine." He shrugged, with his smirk still cemented in place. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore all of the blood rushing to my face. "I like making you blush." He mused. I flushed scarlet and looked down at my feet. "What do you say, I order some dinner, grab a couple bottles of wine and we'll tackle the rest of the house?" He offered. I gaped at him.

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose. I'm sure that there's food around here somewhere… And I'm not old enough to drink." I protested.

"What kind of neighbor would I be if I didn't provide dinner for you to welcome you to town?" He asked. "Besides, I won't tell about the wine, if you don't." He winked. I closed my mouth. I didn't know what to say. This was definitely not what I was expecting… but that didn't mean that it was unwelcome.

"Okay." I gave him. His smirk widened into a smile and he pulled out his phone. I grabbed more dishes and started putting them away, to avoid looking at him. He started talking and I assumed he was ordering dinner. I climbed on top of the counter and put away the rest of the glass bowls. I started to climb down and felt myself start to slip.

"Careful sweetheart, we can't have anything happening to you now. Can we?" He teased as his hands were back to my sides, steadying me. His hands stayed there, as I climbed down. He gave my side a gentle squeeze and I winced. He looked down, concerned. My eyes followed his and I saw the dark bruise that my father had given me yesterday. I hurried to fix my shirt and pull it down.

"I'm so clumsy." I laughed, nervously, not entirely lying through my teeth. He looked like he wanted to say something, but refrained.

"Dinner should be here soon. I'm going to run home and grab the wine, but I'll be back in a few minutes." He assured me. I nodded.

"Okay, see you in a few." I replied. His hand trailed from my side to my hand. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. I watched him leave and stood in confusion. That was close. That was too close. No one can find out about my father. He told me that if I ever told anyone, he would kill me. I know him well enough to know that he wasn't lying. But maybe a friendship with Peter wouldn't be such a bad thing. I can't stand constantly feeling so alone. I would give anything to feel like I had a friend. Who knows, maybe he'll be more than a friend? I still have three days, until my father will be back. A lot can happen in three days, but eventually, reality always has a way of coming back and slapping you in the face.

Love it? Hate it? Reviews would be wonderful.

Xo,
Anneryn